Wreck
by rememberalways
Summary: Pre-Pilot. Rick Castle and Kate Beckett meet under different circumstances before the copycat case. One-shot, complete.


_A/N: Not gonna lie, don't know where this came from. Totally out of left field, but it wouldn't leave me alone so here it is. Enjoy!_

* * *

Okay, he'll admit it: he's really freaking tired. He's had three cups of coffee on this ride upstate and he completely envies his sleeping daughter in the backseat and his mother to his right. There have been a few moments when he's considered stopping for the night; they did get a late start, after all. So yeah, he's a little out of it, sure. But he's not _that_ tired, not enough to be imagining things.

He has to blink three times to make sure he's really seeing what he's seeing.

There's a man wandering around in the middle of the road, yelling but not too loud, not far from where a small sedan is mashed up against the telephone pole with a streetlamp illuminating the damage to the car, what's left of it. He slows down, careful not to hit the man and peers closer at the vehicle where there's –

No, that's not really a person on the hood of that car, is it?

He erratically pulls his own vehicle over to the shoulder with one hand on the wheel, using the other to wake his mother with a gentle shake.

"Darling, what is it?" She asks quietly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Oh, goodness, what happened, Richard?"

"I don't know, I'm going to find out. Stay with Alexis, lock the doors and call 911."

He got out of the car, rolling up the sleeves on his button up, and slowly approached the man in the road, who seemed to have not noticed his presence until then.

"Sir, are you okay? What happened?"

"You have to help Katie.."

"Can you tell me your name?" Castle asked him as he led him over to the side of the road where his car was parked.

"I need you to help Katie, she was trying to help _me_ and oh, just please help her."

Castle was able to get the man calm, situated on the side of the road, on the ground. He told him that help was on the way. After checking with his mother, who gave him a thumbs up, and checking on Alexis, who was still sleeping, he ran over to the damaged car and the woman on the hood, bracing himself.

* * *

She was thoroughly convinced that she was on fire. It felt like white heat lanced her skin and every inch of her body screamed. She made an attempt to shift her legs, maybe get into a position where she could eventually get up, but that just caused more horrendous pain and she cried softly. She heard voices in the distance, cracked one eye open successfully, tried the other but it stung and she winced it shut again. She tried to gather in her surroundings, remember what she was doing before this and oh man, why was it so _cold_?

Someone was coming closer and she tried to say something, ask who he was, because he wasn't her dad –

They were in the car together, weren't they? She'd done something really stupid and now she was, well she wasn't sure where she was but it was a painful place to be.

"You're awake? Okay, well an ambulance is coming so just try and stay calm, alright? Don't try an move."

"Where's .." she trailed off slowly, her voice leaving her. Too much effort to talk.

"Your friend? He's fine, here's over there, sitting on the shoulder with my mother."

"Dad," she said simply, her voice sounding like her throat was coated with sand.

"Oh, he's your father? Well, that makes more sense, I suppose," he told her.

She watched with her one eye as he stepped closer and he really got a good look at her face. She felt him wrap his fingers around one of her hands carefully, mindful of the glass from the windshield and the blood from, well, somewhere. When she didn't wince at the contact, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Can't open the other eye?"

"Probably my contact," she told him. "Always trouble."

He went on and on for the next few minutes about contacts and how uncomfortable they are – _why would we willingly put hard piece of plastic in our eyes? Because we hate our glasses_, he said – and he was just talking so fast and her head hurt so bad, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry, I just want to keep you awake, that's why I keep talking."

"Rambling."

"I know I am, I wasn't expecting you to be alive, to be honest, never mind awake. I didn't think I'd have to make small talk with you."

"Least you're honest," she told him on a cough, and oh – her body hated her for the sudden, jostling movement. "How bad?" she asked and he almost wasn't sure if he should tell her.

It looked as if she had come through the windshield on a horizontal, like she hadn't even been sitting in the seat. There were little bits of blood everywhere and it sat in stunning contrast with the white sedan she and her father had been traveling in. There was a pretty substantial gash in her leg; he wanted to try and stop the bleeding but that required moving her and he didn't want to do that. He looked her over again and he was worried; he couldn't tell from just looking at her what she had going on internally.

"Well, you've come completely through the windshield but considering you're alert and talking, I'd say you're better off then most in your situation. No seatbelt?"

"Long story," she choked out.

Sirens were in the distance and she gripped his hand tighter when she heard it. She almost didn't want to move; everything hurt bad enough already, moving onto a stretcher was just going to make things worse. But she could handle it. Her dad was okay, and that was what mattered most. That's the reason she got into the car, right?

* * *

In hindsight, she's not quite sure what she was thinking.

Sitting in that uncomfortable bed though, under the harsh fluorescent lights and having that awful hospital smell – that clean, uninviting, assaulting smell – invading her senses like a war, she was able to really mentally kick herself. She clearly had not been rational and that's what got her where she is now: laid up in a hospital bed, pain levels simmering back to the top, the pain medication starting to wear off.

Through the loud pounding in her head, she took mental inventory of injuries: a broken right arm, three broken ribs, one really bad concussion, twenty two stitches for that awful cut in her leg and a facial bruise and laceration combination that she was sure didn't look to pretty. She was lucky to be alive and she knew it but as overwhelming as that feeling was, the sense of guilt that she carried was even stronger.

Guilt, hmm. She wasn't even the one driving the car.

If she'd been able to stop her father, he wouldn't have gotten arrested. And she wouldn't have been thrown through the windshield and into a telephone pole at eighty miles an hour.

The paramedics couldn't believe she was alive when the came up on the scene of the accident. They split duties; two attending to her, two attending to her father. When her father was determined to be okay, he was given a breathalyzer and arrested promptly. After that, all concentration was on her and the man that refused to leave her side.

In fact, she was almost positive he was still around the emergency room, somewhere.

She was hooked up to beeping machines and an intravenous line with a few packets of liquid hanging at the top, clear tubes running midair to needle, to meet skin. She lazily wondered what was in them, as she noted the hospital gown she was dressed in, the blanket she'd long ago kicked to the foot of the bed. Skin and bones, she noted after glancing at her legs and feet, mentally addressing her lack of nutrition. She'd work on that once she got out of there.

She took a second to take in the quiet around her and closed her eyes. There was only a few moments of peace, however; the curtain opened and he stepped into the little cubicle that she was in. She opened her eyes and saw him, the man who saved her life with the bright blue eyes and the comforting touch.

He gave her a small smile and came to take the seat next to her bed.

"How are you feeling?" He asked her, watching her closely as a small smile started to form on her lips. "And don't say like you were just thrown into a telephone pole, because that joke is played out and incredibly tacky."

She laughed softly, took stock of his features for a few moments. He seemed completely exhausted, but relieved and she couldn't figure out why a complete stranger was so concerned about her well-being. However odd though, she was thankful.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't a _complete_ stranger, but they'd never met and up until tonight, he didn't know who she was or that someone named Kate Beckett existed. But she knew who he was. She'd read his books, was quite the fan, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

"I'm feeling okay. Tired, pretty sore."

"You'll probably be sore for awhile, but considering what happened to you, you're very lucky."

"I know I am. If you hadn't come up on the accident, I would have died on the hood of that car," she told him carefully around the lump in her throat, not about to lose it in front of him. "I don't know how to even begin to thank you."

"You don't have to. Anybody would have done it."

"Not necessarily," she said.

"Are you from around here?" he asked, changing the topic.

"No, I was just visiting my dad for the weekend. I had just gotten here and then, well, you know."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly, it's complicated and it's - "

"A long story," he cut her off, softly, covering her hand with his where it rested on the bed, like he'd done at the scene of the accident. "You told me. I'm not going to push, just letting you know that if you want to tell me, I'm here."

"Well, what about you?" She asked, after clearing her throat. "Do you live around here?"

"No. I'm from the city. I promised my daughter that we'd come up this week for vacation. I've been having trouble with work for awhile and I figured we'd needed a break anyway."

"Ah, so I supposed I won't have another Richard Castle novel to read anytime soon?" The smile that showed up on his face was totally worth outing herself as an avid reader.

"So you're a fan?"

"Sort of, I guess. My mom loved your books, especially your earlier works. I picked them up after she would finish them. She got me hooked."

Close enough to the truth, right?

"Well, I consider it completely unfair that you know my name and I don't know yours."

"Really? That's the best line you've got?"

"I try," he said, smiling at her. "Your dad called you Katie, so I have _something_to go off of."

"That's a nickname. I usually go by Kate. Kate Beckett," she told him, squeezing his hand gently. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Castle."

"You can call me Rick. I think we've surpassed formalities, don't you?"

She nodded and he gave her a soft smile.

"Ms. Beckett?"

At the sound of her last name, she glanced up quickly, meeting the eyes of her nurse, who's name was something like Diane. Maybe Dana? She wasn't sure. One of those little packets above her head holding her painkillers might be empty, but she was still feeling a little drowsy and odd from them.

"Hi honey, I'm Melissa, remember me?" she asked and Kate nodded. _Diane?_ She thought, _not even close, Kate. Good Job._ "I'm going to have someone come in from admitting. We're going to keep you for a few days, for observation. You had quite the accident and you need to rest while we keep an eye on you. Sound good?"

Kate nodded and Melissa continued on.

"What's your pain level at right now, on a scale of one to ten?"

"About a seven or eight. My head is pounding."

"Okay, after we get you settled in a room, we'll get you something for your pain so you can sleep for the rest of the night. We'll probably move you in five minutes or so." Melissa finished noting Kate's vitals on her chart while she spoke and when she was done, she turned to Castle. "That means you've got to go home, sir. You can come back during visiting hours in the morning." She regarded both of them politely, "I'll be back in a few minutes, Ms. Beckett."

Castle looked at Kate as she tried to stifle a yawn.

"Seems like that's my cue to leave."

"Probably. She doesn't seem all that vicious. I'm sure you need to rest, though. You must be exhausted."

"Worth it," he told her.

"Is there anything I can do to thank you for everything? I don't even know where to begin – "

"Kate, I'm just happy you're going to be okay."

At his words, she really took a second to think about the last few hours and had to call it into question: was she really going to be okay? Her mother was dead, her father was just arrested, she was laid up in a hospital bed with no idea how she was going to her home. She'd be out of work for a while and what on Earth was she going to with her time? And then there was going to be physical therapy, rebuilding ties with her father after her nearly killed her, when she was only trying to help –

Suddenly, the world seemed a lot more awful then it had in a long while and she wasn't quite sure she could hold everything in.

"Kate?" He prodded gently; watched as a tear escaped her eye, trickled down her cheek.

"I had to go to the store, the cream spoiled and I didn't want to have to go out in the morning for fresh cream with my coffee, so I was going to go out tonight. Dad wanted me to stay home with him and we fought. Everything after that happened so fast – he reached for my keys, I reacted, followed him out to the car. I shouldn't have. Everyone tells you not to get into the car with someone who's been drinking, right?"

"Does he do this often?"

"Ever since my mom died.." she trailed off, choking on the words before proceeding. "I came up this weekend because I hadn't heard from him and I was worried. But anyway, he was driving and I was yelling at him to stop the car and he wouldn't. Then, out of nowhere, there were three deer in the road, and he was looking at me, didn't even see them. So I just undid my seat belt and leaned across, grabbed the wheel. Dad got angry and turned the wheel in the complete opposite direction, towards the telephone pole and that's all I remember, until you came over and took my hand."

"Kate, you should have never – "

"I wasn't just going to let him drive himself up a wall and kill himself," she told him, all attitude and defenses.

"No, but it's okay for him to drive into a pole instead and nearly kill _you_?"

She almost wanted to say yes. Aside from her career, what did she have really? Her family was a mess, there was no boyfriend to speak of and it was very clear what ground her relationship with her father stood on. She had very few friends and all of her free time was usually spent with a book. His books, if she was being honest. And now he was standing her, raising his voice and –

Wait a second, who did this guy think he was?

"That was my choice," she told him, taking her hand from his and resting it in her lap, carefully choosing her next few words, "I didn't want something to happen to him. He was drunk, he didn't know what he was doing."

"He seemed to know what he was doing when he drove you into a telephone pole!"

"You are incredibly out of line. You don't even know me. You have no right to stand here and lecture me about my choices and what I do. Just who do you think you are?"

He was stunned at her outburst, but she was right. He had no right to be telling her what she should and shouldn't be doing. She was a grown woman, right? He didn't know the circumstances that surrounded these events, what had happened in her life, what led to this moment, so who was he to judge?

"You're right, I'm sorry. I just, you seem like you need a break, like you don't deserve anything bad to keep – "

"Time to get moving!"

It was then that Melissa came back in with paperwork for Kate and a shooing motion with her hand for Castle.

He looked at Kate softly, tears welled up in the back of her eyes and he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, a quick goodbye. She leaned into him as he parted from her, blinking rapidly to stop her tears. It was ridiculous to feel like this, she thought, but she didn't care. This guy had been the one person to show her the most emotion in the last how many years? And she'd done what she does best: pushed him away.

"Take care, Kate."

He turned on his heel and left her with a spinning head and a pounding heart, neither of which were from the accident.

* * *

It would be early spring, years later, the next time he would see Kate Beckett, but not the first time she would cross his mind. She would be taking him downtown for questioning about a murder based on his books and it dawned on him that they never did talk about what she did for a living all those years ago when he'd saved her life.

She had been a constant wisp in his memory since he'd left her hospital room. He'd wonder how she was doing, where she was living, how her father was coping with everything. She would cross his mind at the oddest of times, when the smallest things would remind him of her; when he was talking to Alexis about safe driving, when he would pour himself a drink, when he caught his leg on the corner of the coffee table and cut it open.

He imagined her to be a lawyer, she seemed like the type. He'd tried to search her on the Internet, but he just couldn't track her down. Now knowing she was a cop, everything made sense; cops – detective, rather – weren't listed publicly. She was a detective, and worked in homicide, his area of expertise, too. Right up his alley. He took it as a sign from the universe and oh, he was one known to respect the universe.

As he walked out the precinct, walking away from her for the second time, he has a gut wrenching feeling, not unlike the one he had when he'd left her in the hospital and he didn't like that feeling at all. Something had to be done and so, Rick Castle came up with a plan to make sure that he would definitely see Kate Beckett again.

The rest, as they say, is history.


End file.
